She begun her day with charcoal
And ends her day with crockeries.
Not for fame but for home!
She burnt her flesh,
And loved her blood.
But she was not a matter of concern,
As she was a mother who conceived dreams.
Reshma L R✍️For more insights 🧐"mynewblogspotrk.blogspot.com" & Poetry collections : "Unstrung Notes", "Elysian Florets", "Wonder Meal", "Ormakal"
This is my swan song I lay down my pen with a trembling sigh, Curtailing the voice of my dreaming muse, For none remain to read, and none t...